


Those Who Lie Beneath Your Feet

by 12AngelOfDarkness21



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Dark Tony Stark, Explicit Sexual Content, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Tony Stark, Rough Sex, Smut, The Hydra Agents don't stand a chance, Vampire Tony Stark, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12AngelOfDarkness21/pseuds/12AngelOfDarkness21
Summary: When Loki goes investigating into a Hydra bunker hidden deep in the forest, he gets a lot more than he bargained for.





	Those Who Lie Beneath Your Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo everyone! Another adaption from roleplay, this time with some FrostIron. Endless thanks and kisses to NightlesslyNightlock, Rabentochter and Aerielle for their massive help in betaing and ~~bullying~~ cheering me into posting this. 
> 
> I'll link your profiles when Ao3 stops being silly 😘
> 
> For those who aren't able to read thanks to how its formatted, thank you for your feedback! This was originally written in an app with no way of formatting at all, hence the blocks of text. I'm currently making my way through and making it a little bit easier to read, so check back in for updates. (:

The Hydra base sat atop a large hill in north eastern Germany. A large open countryside decorated by coloured fields and rolling green hills, punctuated by the sole fortress with rugged stone walls. An inconspicuous sight to the uninformed eye. But Loki knew that his precious sceptre lay within the aged structure. The discrete exterior guards were easy to slip past. Between his silent footfalls and cunning ways, casualties were minimal until he breached the facility itself. The sceptre was under heavy watch. Several soldiers in the corridor put up a grand fight but Loki's illusion led them away as the god in his Hydra-Soldier-disguised form made for the holding cell. Hydra's most precious possession all under scrutiny in one room. The sceptre itself was held in a glass container and, given the number of cameras pointed his way, it wouldn't be long until a band of disposable soldiers were dispatched to thwart his reclamation. As he lifted the sceptre sirens blared. Loki jerked his head to look at the door, hands clasping the stem of the sceptre. "It certainly needn't be so bloody," he remarked, heart pounding but otherwise composed. The soldiers drew near, appearing through the doorway as Loki, still grasping the end, swung the sceptre. With the men stunned, Loki got away. Several turns later and he was slamming a door to an unmarked room. The dull whirr of a fan kept tempo as he slowed his breathing. Several seconds later he'd caught his breath. With his attention turned to his surroundings, Loki picked up a shadow several paces away. The figure was crouched. Behind bars, this man- or creature as the treatment seemed hardly humane - was another Hydra prize. Curious, still holding the sceptre, Loki approached. His boots touched heel to toe, noiseless, as he closed the distance between the captive and himself. A swaying light occasionally illuminated the man. Still, it wasn't until Loki was within arm’s reach of the cage that he observed exactly whom was held therein. A distasteful smirk passed over his lips. "Oh..." he breathed, pausing. "Tony Stark, what have you got yourself into." Crouching, eyes bright and full of wonderment, Loki looked on.

  
  


Sometimes, you had to sit down and wonder, 'how the fuck did I get into this situation?'. A series of unfortunate events, leading to him sitting here, with one thing at the forefront of his mind, blasting away the thoughts of anything else, including escape, freedom. Blood. Oh, how he craved it. Wanted it, needed it, like a starving man needed food or a dying man needed water. He wanted something he could sink his teeth into, rip and tear, till blood poured down his throat, down, down into his belly, filling him up and finally bringing him peace. Alas, that wasn't an option yet. Instead, here he was. Trapped, chained, held down and kept locked away, like a monster. And perhaps he was a monster, now. Pale skin and red eyes so wild they nearly glowed in the dark. Sharp teeth, fangs that he could bare, and claws that he could swipe with, a warning to any who came close. He was dangerous, now. So dangerous, in fact, that HYDRA had seemingly given up on his upkeeping. He'd killed the last handler, sprayed his blood across the walls, torn out his throat with nothing but his teeth and a vicious howl, eyes aglow with pain and  _ death _ . Oh, how good it had felt, licking the blood from the walls, from his fingers, despite how degrading it was. He hadn't been visited again in... Days? Weeks? Who knew, really, how long he had been here. So deep underground he couldn't see the sun, and he no longer slept, so his circadian rhythm was no more. Perhaps he'd been gone for months? Maybe even... Years? For all he knew, the rest of the Avengers were rotting away in their graves, while he was trapped here. All of this meant he was surprised when the door opened and closed with a quick jolt. He was instantly on the alert, not for danger, oh no. HYDRA had already proved to him just how ineffective their preventative measures were against him, their guns and blades useless against his new, monstrous body. He was alert for food, for blood. Looking the man in front of him up and down, there was something strangely familiar about him. So familiar, in fact, that he was able to give himself a name for the person. 

Loki.

  
  


There were few humans as intriguing as Tony Stark and none who so genuinely captured Loki's attention. There were, of course, the rest of the Avengers. The motley crew of damaged men and women desperately trying to protect the world. An effort which Loki frankly felt to be in vain. The task was tedious and painful as the plight of Sisyphus, prolific in its demands. All for what? He could only wonder. Were the mortal Midgardians really worth it? The questions puzzled him as the Avengers, his brother included, sacrificed themselves time and time again. The rest of the team lacked Tony's allure. The nameless thing that held Loki's attention captive. And there he was- in the flesh. Trapped in a cage covered in grime and... was that blood? Loki's brows reflexively twitched together as he further examined the man and his conditions. If it weren't for the way his boot slipped as he shuffled back slightly, he may not have noticed the atrocious state of the rest of the room. The light flickered, flashing to provide momentary clarity as to the danger he was in. Was Tony to blame? "I bet you've got many worried tight-wearing companions," Loki mused. "Perhaps a few who'd pay quite a price to have you in a cage of their own creation." The red eyes certainly had Loki wary but the bars, blood stained as they were, offered him a sense of security. "I'm only wondering what it is you would offer me in return for your freedom."

  
  


Perhaps, if he'd still been human, he would have thought about it. Perhaps, his genius mind would have worked and whizzed and whirled, until he had ideas and plans. But, alas, he was different, now. Oh, he was still the same, sarcastic, charming genius asshole everyone knew him to be. But now? Oh, now, he was so much  _ more _ , too. He rose fluidly, graceful like a panther, muscles shifting beneath smooth, pale skin. He leaned in, eyes aglow with mischief and a certain wild darkness, a certain dullness you only usually saw in animals. His lips parted, pearly fangs peeking through, only adding to his monstrous appearance. He kept leaning in, till he could poke his nose between the bars, till he could peer at Loki with one blood red eye, hands curled around the bars either side of him, claws giving a dull click as he did so. "What to offer you? Oh, little godling. How about your life?" He purred, and all at once his demeanour changed, smooth and graceful to wild and savage. He lunged forward, the bars groaning in protest as he heaved against them, snapping his teeth and howling in rage, in hunger. His stomach was snarling at him, empty, oh so empty, he needed blood, more and more, guzzling down his throat till he was full, full and sated. He fell still and silent, except for the low hiss of his breath shuddering out of his lungs. "Get me out of here, and I'll spare your life when I break free." He tried once again, giving his lips a quick flick of the tongue. He had to get out. He had to feed. 

  
  


The physical metamorphosis was breathtaking. Tony's body lifting fluidly as if controlled by a heinous puppeteer, fangs flashing, had Loki feeling like the caged creature. A captive to those eyes, as simultaneously captivating and off putting as they were. Loki's heart palpated. He held his breath just long enough to feel his chest wall tense, body beckoning for him to breathe once again. And he did. A silent exhale slipped through the bars just as Tony leaner in. As if to challenge Loki's typical coolness, his unflinching composure, what remained of the great Tony Stark lunged forward. The animalistic snapping sent Loki stumbling back, nearly toppling to the ground. He wasn't offered a moment to experience the confusion Tony's comment warranted. No witty retort built. Instead, with his heart firmly lodged in his throat, pulsating and pounding like a desperate prisoner, Loki was still. Silent. What brand of cruel experiments could change such a prolific figure into such a heathen? Loki pondered whether the process of creating such a beast would be more valuable than the beast himself. Footfalls down the corridor snapped him from his thoughts. Whatever Tony was, he couldn't kill him. Loki was confident enough of this fact. The Hydra soldiers, on the other hand, could hold him captive or, apparently, worse. So Loki shifted his grasp on the sceptre and approached the cage with an air of self-assurance. "Alright, Stark, I'll free you under the condition that you assist in my safe passage from this fortress," he bargained. Though a rattle against the door led Loki to break the lock before receiving an answer. Fingers crossed, as it were.

  
  


There was something truly special, about being able to walk out of a cage, somewhere you'd been trapped for so long. Oh, how he'd missed it. There was no real difference in scenery, blood still coated the walls, dirt and grime and wet patches you didn't want to think too hard about. But, being able to look behind, see his cage, now empty? A purr rattled his chest, a dark smirk slid across his face. Oh, he was looking forward to this. He sauntered forward, giving a quick wink to Loki, his mind whirling with information, how long did he have to think of a plan before he lost his mind to the feral, dark hunger that consumed him, to the terrifying madness that licked at his soul? Not long enough, apparently. He'd barely stepped protectively in front of the godling, when the door slammed open, HYDRA agents pouring in like a wave. It was almost humorous, how they skidded to a stop at the sight of him free, no longer behind bars. How their hearts beat faster, the smell of fear thick and heady in the air. He inhaled, head tipping back, almost in relaxation. The smell of fear, of prey, was intoxicating. Better than anything he'd ever smelt before. It made his body tingle, and once more he lost his mind to the madness that was his thirst. He sunk into a crouch, and, with a low snarl, lunged forward, with teeth and claws and pure, brute strength. There was nothing smart or intelligent about this, this was animalistic, feral, bloody and insane. He snapped necks and tore flesh, ripped and bit and clawed. He didn't even notice that he was being shot at, the bullets ricocheting off his skin to instead tinkle on the floor, like bells, a symphony of death, the splatter and drip of blood hitting the floor, the explosions of the guns, the thud as bodies hit the floor. He was covered in blood and bits of people, but he was still hungry, he hadn't eaten, just killed. There was only one agent left, who had the common sense - or perhaps the idiocy - to try and run. And oh, how Tony loved the thrill of the chase, the hunt. It took barely seconds to catch up, to grab him, haul him in, and to bite. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, he tore through skin till blood flooded his mouth, till he could moan, and drink, greedily suckle and gurgle it down, more and more until there was nothing left and he had to let go, had to turn around to look at Loki. Vaguely, he wondered how terrifying he looked, and then as swiftly as the thought came, it disappeared, and he turned, heading off down the halls towards the fresh air he could smell. He needed out.

  
  


What happened next played out with the choreography of a violent ballet. The graceful neck stretch was the buzzing crescendo of the orchestra, bows brushing vibrating strings as the curtain rose. Loki's gut buckled with anticipation as the dancers emerged. If only he were treated to such spectacular performances more frequently, he thought, enjoying the stuttering footfalls of the frightened HYDRA agents. The pitter patter and sliding of their boots ceased. Time passed leisurely. But Loki was mesmerized, so drawn in by the dancers and their lull that he nearly forgot he was standing in a dank old room in a HYDRA base. His gaze drifted down the defined tendons in Tony's neck, startled when the man crouched. Abruptly, the once adagio motions became allegro and the dance truly begun as Tony commenced his gruesome assault. If he'd been sitting in a seat, Loki would be on the edge. Like props, flour sack rag dolls, men were broken and tossed aside, leaving the floor looking like a discard pile of broken children's toys. What joy he felt as his dark eyes, fastened onto the gorey sight. His fingers shifted against the warm pole of the sceptre, lips tense. A smile twisted and froze on his features. Even as the performance came to its conclusion, Loki couldn't gather his thoughts. With Tony before him, bloody and hedonistic, Loki simply looked on, the twisted expression of pleasure unflinching. "My gods..." He hummed, admiring the invulnerable war machine. "What a thing of beauty you are." Outwardly fearless, he walked up to Tony, steady pace coming to a halt only a single step from the man. "What manner of transformation would change a man with such unwavering value for human life into one capable of slaughtering them like pests?"

  
  


One moment, he'd been guzzling blood, feeling it paint his chin, his chest, hands, bloody red and dark, and the next, Loki had stalked in front of him, blocking his path. It made something in him writhe, and he bared his teeth on instinct, all these new thoughts and feelings telling him what he should do. He took a single step back, chin tipped upwards, showing he wasn't one to be messed with. He wasn't playing games, here. He circled Loki, ever so slowly, scrutinising him, and it was only then that Loki's words actually sunk into his head, making him pause. Hang on a second. "Beauty?" He asked, head tipping to the side in confusion, eyes narrowing. What was beautiful about a monster, a killer? "You think I'm beautiful like this?" And the red fog was fading, receding back into his own mind, back, back, until his eyes were clear and bright, no longer dulled with feral hunger. He looked down at himself, blinking at the sight of his bloodied and ripped clothes. Huh. That was going to be a bitch to clean. He scratched at his stomach, almost absently, and then rose his gaze to meet Loki's, brows raising in silent questioning. He still wanted an answer, after all. Of all people, Tony Stark was very used to being called a multitude of names, both good and bad. Beautiful being one of them, but never when he'd been in such a messy state. It was new, exciting, a puzzle to work out. Something for his mind to latch onto, work through and figure out.

  
  


Unsure whether it was the draw that Tony, himself, possessed or something to do with the scene before him, Loki was smitten. His chest rose and fell in heavy shallow breaths. Beneath the suit, his heart pounded as he watched the drip, drip, drip of blood from Tony's stained body to the painted floor. It was glorious. Absolutely spectacular. Leaving only a fractional distance between them, he shifted forward. "I haven't witnessed a more marvellous display of raw animalistic power since I arrived on Earth," he praised, reaching out to move Tony's hand from his stomach. Both fearful, though physically withholding the fact, and perhaps lustful, Loki let his fingers glide up the warm slick skin only for a moment before he pulled away to examine his bloodied palm. His eyes raised to meet Tony's. "I don't think your little friends would appreciate this new and improved Tony Stark," he suggested. His brow twitched upward. Unsure if he was manipulating or so infatuated that he genuinely wanted Tony's attention, he brought his finger to his lips and glazed them with the cooling blood. Then he licked it off. The taste wasn't terrible, though he didn't hunger for a second sip. "I, on the other hand, couldn't imagine a greater work of art." His voice sink into a sibilant whisper and he hesitantly reached to brush Tony's face with the back of his hand, stopping just short of doing so.

  
  


Interesting. He could smell the building arousal, see Loki's eyes dilate, hear his heart pounding away, like a rabbit standing before the wolf. His chin tipped further up, keeping their gazes locked as Loki came closer, ever closer, till he could study each individual eyelash and search the depths of his eyes. The compliment made him preen, he couldn't help it, smirk tugging at his lips and chest puffing out in pride, because /yes/. He may be a monster now, but damnit, he was a hot, sexy, gorgeous, powerful monster. The touch to his stomach made him jolt, muscles tensing, fangs bared, but he calmed back down, watching intently as Loki- oh. /Oh/. His eyes couldn't leave Loki's tongue as it licked the blood from his fingers, and something in him rose, a hunger, so familiar and yet foreign to him, now. He wanted Loki, needed him. Compliments and the offering of bloody fingertips? Why, it was almost as if Loki was trying to seduce him, and who was he to not play along? He turned his head, just enough so skin brushed against skin, and his mouth fell open, tongue poking out to curl around the gods fingertips. Surprisingly long, he slowly, teasingly, licked any blood left over from his fingers, all while keeping his gaze locked with Loki's. Two could play at this game, after all. It was only the sound of footsteps that made him stop, and he pulled back, looking over his shoulder, red fog once more threatening to take over. "Come. We can finish this somewhere a bit safer." He murmured, and, without waiting for a reply, started walking down the hallway, aiming for an exit, where ever it may be.

  
  


Games were Loki's specialty. The higher the stakes, the more Loki had to lose, the better. It was hard to say whether he valued the win more than process of playing and manipulating. Ultimately, he needn't be provided with a prize to feel satisfied. Perhaps that was the most dangerous aspect of Loki's brand of evil because the outcome wasn't always important, though it was always considered. His cunning plans were adjusted for new information. But the goal of those adjustments favoured potency to maximise damage as opposed to winning each individual battle. As Tony leaned into his palm, Loki began to question the intended outcome of this specific game. What was it that he'd set out to accomplish? Initially, of course, he simply wanted a low effort escape from the facility. But, considering Tony's apparent power, that was no longer a concern. So why was he flirting? Loki considered these questions during the moments wherein Tony's heat grew against his hand. His brows were loosely tugging together as he swallowed in anticipation. This was fun. Aimless, risky, fun. And, oh, how Tony played back. Loki drew in a sharp inhale, lips parting and tugging into a subtle lopsided smile upon feeling the man's lips, and subsequently his tongue as well as the inside of his mouth, toy with his bloody digits. It was erotic. The brand of fun which Loki often distanced himself from, for the stakes were high and victory didn't guarantee any truly satisfying prize. He exhaled a small sound. The sound at the door startled him and the glazed and entranced gazed snapped to attention. Tony's suggestion earned a small and mischievous smile. Then he watched as the man took several steps before glancing around the room and following. Loki, the Asgardian god, following a mortal heathen for the sake of sexual gratification. Oh, what Odin and Thor would have to say about that. But Loki didn't care. The game had only a small probability of return. The Avengers wouldn't accept Tony like this. No. They would try to change him. Fix him. Perhaps the most favourable outcome of such a high stakes bet, would be the potential to appear valuable to such a powerful weapon. This is what he told himself as he silently slunk behind Tony in search of an exit.

  
  


He slunk through the hallways, looking around, searching for an exit. He could smell the fresh air, all he needed to do was follow it to freedom, and ignore the thudding of dozens of feet following behind. They were being followed, stalked, hunted. Tony didn't like being hunted. It made something in him writhe, made him twitchy, looking over his shoulder, watching, waiting. He didn't like this. He paused when he realised he was at a dead end, and hissed in rage, looking around. This is where the smell was strongest, this is where he had to go, and yet... He'd obviously have to break through he wall, somehow. But how? He could kick it down, or ram into it, but who knew how vulnerable he was? As a normal human, he would probably sprain something, and he had no idea if his new... Improved body, would stop that from happening. His thoughts were interrupted as more agents poured into the hallway, guns raised. Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, or to snarl. Look, the sheep trying to scare the lion. He had killed them before, and he would do it before, because they were weak. Weak, like ants under your boot, a quick step and they were gone, dead, wiped away, like nothing but a stain. He turned to face them, head tipped, eyes narrowed, calculating, thinking. Would he rather kill them, or try and escape? Fight or flee? Not to mention, Loki was standing off to the side, watching, waiting. He had to make sure the God didn't turn on him, half way through, though he seemed to have seduced the man to at least playing along, for now. One man ran forward, blade at the ready, and, well, how could Tony not deny such an open invitation? It took mere seconds for him to disarm and pull the agent in, his eyes once more going dull with his hunger. He would kill them, he would feast on them all, until he was finally full and sated. He leaned in, ignoring the agents desperate struggles, and bit down into his neck, keeping his gaze on Loki. Perhaps he should be watching the enemy, but he couldn't help himself, and so instead gazed at the god as he started to drink, throat bobbing with each swallow, a low moan being pulled from his throat. Who knew that blood could be so delicious? 

  
  


The HYDRA base was swimming with agents before Tony had been released but now they were drowning in enemy presence. Tony appeared fearless, though. Given his new lowered threat level, he was easily ignored and therefore safe as long as Tony stayed the centre of attention. So he kept the sceptre down and resigned to playing the part of a passive observer; the role didn't come naturally to him. Nevertheless, the show was wonderful. Once again Tony proved his immense strength as he tore easily through the HYDRA ranks. Even Loki, who'd remained in the shadows, was speckled red from the brutal display of raw and feral energy. His eyes were open enough to show off the white above and below his irises as Tony faced of with the final agent in the cluster. Blood dripped from his cheek. He didn't budge, hesitating to blink out of fear of missing out. The image of Tony's previous meal was still vivid and burnt into his memory, flashing back, much to Loki's pleasure, as the HYDRA agent was lifted from the ground. "Oh, yes," he whispered, locking eyes with Tony. Unlike the first feast he'd witnessed, Loki was no longer uneasy as he watched the man open his mouth, fangs peaking from the darkness before plunging without difficulty into the agent's meaty neck. Once the performance came to its conclusion, Loki wasted no time walking toward the exit to the base. There was no further flirtation or praise. Through their eye contact, Loki was sure that Tony understood how he felt-- was feeling. He hadn't the slightest interest in bringing the man harm or returning him to the Avengers and, while it was unclear whether Tony possessed the ability to mortally maim Loki, he was sure that his strength wouldn't best the other man. So, for the foreseeable future, he intended to keep the peace.

  
  


He watched as Loki stalked towards the dead end, and pulled back from the drained agent, licking his lips. God, blood was delicious. How had he never realised that before now? With his thirst somewhat sated, and the madness once more retreated, he was able to think about their escape. What had been his idea before they were interrupted? Oh yes. He hefted up the dead agents body, and threw it, not exactly expecting the result he'd gotten. The body went flying, hit the wall, and went through it, bricks crumbling and bursting outward, exposing the outside. Tony stared down at his hands in surprise, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, grabbing Loki's lower arm and very nearly dragging him to the new hole. Every time he inhaled, he could smell Loki's arousal building, fuelling his own, blood rushing through his body due to his recent feeding, and it seemed to all be heading one way. Down. He wasted no time, using his bare hands and claws to rip through the wall, until he was able to squirm through to the outside, looking around at the greenery. God, it was overwhelming, so many scents and sounds. He'd been so cut off, trapped in the compound, and now that he had a comparison? He took a deep breath, eyes closing, and, for a moment, just stood there, smelling, listening. He could hear the wind rustling the trees, the water in the stream, the heartbeats of the animals around them. He could smell it as they walked, flew, ate, anything. It made him want to run, to climb, to hunt, to do so many strange new things he wouldn't have even thought of before. His body almost vibrated with the need, though he wasn't entirely sure what the hell he wanted. He couldn't forget his partner, the god still climbing through the hole, but he just needed a moment, dropping to his knees and then flopping over into the grass, burying his face into it, almost nuzzling it. God, so many instincts wanting to be appeased, so many things to do and things he wanted, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to do first. He continued rolling around, spreading his scent across the ground, leaving his mark. He had been here, and any animal that walked past would know, would know that a predator was in their midst. He was dangerous, and he was here, and he was oh so ready.

  
  


The loud thud immediately caught Loki's attention. Stopping, he remained facing down the corridor to contemplate the sound before turning around. His gaze flicked between Tony and the hole in the wall, settling on the body before he repeated the cycle. Apparently super human strength was a part of his new repertoire. Strength and an insatiable hunger for blood. Lids tightening, Loki pondered what could cause such a change. Whatever it was-- Loki wanted the answers. Fingers wrapped around his arm and before he could question the contact he was being pulled through the hole. Mind racing, eye lids squinting, he moved his feet so he wouldn't trip as he was dragged into a new corridor and subsequently released. "I am very capable of walk--" Loki was cut off by another thud. Again and again Tony struck and clawed at the wall. With relative ease, the man was through the final barrier and rolling around in the grass like a dog. Loki hesitated, watching Tony. Supposing that there was nothing more interesting he could do upon his escape, he used the sceptre to widen the hole and then left as well. Lacking the primal urge to spread his scent, he simply stood and watched. Observing Tony, Loki picked up his previously derailed train of thought. "What is it that they did to you," he inquired, pacing forward until the toes of his shoes were nearly touching the writhing man's body. "To make you become so much like an animal..." His voice faded as he remembered their earlier interaction. The promise of more lingered. Was he really so interested in Tony? Or was he just curious? The game was dangerous but Loki was committed. 

  
  


He twitched a little, having lost himself in the sensation of being outside. Rudely interrupted, he glanced up, before remembering exactly what they'd been up to, before their interrupted and subsequent escape. He smirked, and rolled onto his back, legs parting. Of course, his stay at the compound hadn't exactly been 5 star service, and he was filthy. Covered in dirt and blood, clothes torn nearly to pieces, and yet, it worked, especially with the darkness in his eyes. Legs spread wide, he threw his hands up behind his head, and stretched, for he had always been good at seducing, and having complete control over his body helped a lot. Muscles rippled, and he bit his lip, grinning, before suddenly he was up like a shot, circling the god. "Oh, little godling, they did so many things." He purred, stopping behind him, chin hooking over his shoulder, not quite touching as he whispered in the man's ears. The heat of his body radiated into the gods back, and he panted, a low growl bubbling in his chest. "Come, Loki. If you can catch me, I'll give you what you want~" he chuckled, backing off, circling round to his front to give a wink, walking backwards, towards the forest. It was calling to him, a call he couldn't ignore, but that didn't mean he couldn't take Loki with him. His eyes glittered with mischief, something usually seen on the man opposite him, but it seemed to suit the feral man just as well, and he gave a playful smirk. Would the god be able to keep up with him? Giving one last, teasing roll of his hips, highlighting /exactly/ what Loki would win upon his capture, Tony turned and ran into the forest, laughing gleefully.

  
  


This role was typically reserved for Loki himself. The seducing. Even when the roles were reversed, he was not typically promised to be on the receiving end of penetration itself in his male form. The thought would have troubled him but he was fixated on the scene Tony was causing, eyes latched hungrily onto the man's body. Head cocking, resting relaxed to one side, he observed the ground show. His eyes twitched and narrowed, tiny subtle motions arguing to convey interest and confusion. It wasn't until Tony rose and brought their bodies close, taunting, that Loki discarded his doubts entirely. A cool chill ran down the back of his spine when the man moved away. The hot breath left a cold pressure on his now lonely neck. Whether or not he was being used just as he enjoyed using others, Loki did not care. No longer was he thinking about the gain or triumph. He wanted, perhaps even needed, whatever Tony was offering. Swallowing a lump of tension, Loki looked around as if paranoid that he would be seen, then he tilted his head up, eyes pointed to the sky, sighing. Resignation to weakness. Giving in to his more primal urges. He was partially disgusted with himself as he took several steps toward the forest. Slowly, his speed increased until he was in a full sprint, twigs snapping under his swift feet. He'd keep up with Tony. Sending out his illusions to track Tony on either side, Loki teleported several meters ahead and waited. "I can't tell if this is a challenge or a game," he teased, returning the same mischievous smirk he'd been given before they'd entered the forest. 

  
  


Of course, he wasn't going to run right into such an easy trap. Oh, no. He was a hunter now, an apex predator at the top of his game. One moment, he'd been running straight for Loki, and the next, he seemingly disappeared from sight, vanishing into the shadows. In reality, he was climbing up into the trees, stalking silently amongst the branches, watching Loki. He could hear his racing heartbeat, smell his sweat, adrenaline, his excitement, arousal. It made Tony's body thrum in anticipation, cock already starting to harden in his torn jeans, mouth watering. He wanted so badly, wanted to rip and tear and bite, shove the god down and bend him over, take him and use him and mark him up, so everybody knew exactly who the god belonged to. But he would wait. He would be patient. Tony Stark was not known for his patience, but sitting to rot in a cell had taught him, and taught him well. He crept round, until he was almost above Loki, crouching down, hidden in the branches and leaves. He barely breathed, eyes aglow, and waited, ready to pounce.

  
  


Surprised when he wasn't faced with Tony, Loki gathered his illusions and looked around. He was so rarely confronted with a creature who could flee his illusions. Neck craning, he released his illusions again, standing shoulder to shoulder such that they formed a tight triangle as they inspected their surroundings. Tony was nowhere to be found. In a combination of fear and anticipation, confident that other had not left him, Loki's heart pounded violently in his chest. He was prey. Being stalked as such was erotic and he dissipated his illusions, standing down and accepting his new mantle with only mild apprehension. It could be fun, he was sure of that. The potential pleasure didn't eliminate the risk. Each and every crackle and crunch had his head spinning. Tony was here somewhere. Cautiously, he walked in the direction that the other had been running, eyes shifting in his skull, keen to pick out movement. "You're very clever, Tony Stark," he hummed, talking to comfort himself but holding a playful and confident tone. "I do love mischief." Clearing his throat, he backed into a tree. It was snapped three metres up the trunk and collapsed, leaning against itself. "But this all seems rather unnecessary." His voice wavered as his heart fluttered. Tony /was/ there. Somewhere. 

  
  


He gave a low chuckle, and it seemed to reverberate around the clearing, echoing against the trees, bouncing around. Oh, how Loki's heart was fluttering like a humming birds, and even from here, Tony could see it jumping in his throat. So tempting, so distracting. He took a single step forward, and then dropped, landing in front of Loki in a crouch. Raising himself up, he was mere inches away from the other, pinning him to the fallen tree with his presence, though the fact that he captured Loki's hands and pressed them above his head probably helped, as well. Leaning in, he nibbled on Loki's earlobe with sharp teeth, the chuckle from earlier still rattling his chest. "Aren't I meant to be the one getting captured, little godling?" He teased, stepping forward till there was no space left between them. He curled his tongue around the gods ear, nipped at the soft skin behind it, and then started to trail his way down, down his neck, to his pulse, latching onto it and suckling. Oh, how easy it would be, to bite, to drink, to gorge himself on Loki's blood, but his erection was straining against the fabric of his pants, and he needed relief more than he needed blood, right now. The biting would come later. Just like earlier, how he marked his territory of the earth, now he marked Loki, starting to rub himself against the god. Nuzzling at the hollow of his throat, breath panting across his skin, and hips rolling, bringing their groins together perfectly every time, forcing low moans from his own throat. This was perfect, and yet he needed more, and soon.

  
  


The rumble of laughter stopped Loki's breathing and his body grew momentarily cold. He didn't dare release the breath, ears alert to pinpoint precisely where the sound had come from but the air was force out when Tony dropped to the ground before him. Their proximity, close but not touching, prickled Loki's skin. The distance quickly closed and their bodies were nearly flush. Dead bark scratching marks against the back of his palms, Loki put up a minor struggle. The squirming was for show. By no means did he intend to break free, or genuinely put forth the effort to try. Still, he fought, keeping his head still to savour the teeth and the tongue which so artfully played with his ears and, soon, his neck. As Tony's mouth descended, Loki tilted his head. A chuckle of his own vibrated against the man's teeth. "Somehow I believe I will still get what it is I crave," he hissed, voice hitching as Tony began to rut against him. Feeling almost trampled by the rampant nature of the grinding, Loki rolled his hips in return. With the heel of on foot, he hooked against Tony's ankle and used it as leverage to keep his back arched away from the tree. Still, his hands desperately writhed to become free. Oh how he sought to feel Tony's skin against his hands. Hair tangled and brushing along the webbing between his fingers. "This is an awful lot of tenderness for such a creature," he taunted, giving a single, punctuating, jolt of his hips. His cock ached, teased and stimulated by the vicious friction. 

  
  


Oh, was that the little god, trying to show off his claws? They pricked at his skin, but nothing more, not compared to the ripping and tearing Tony knew himself now capable of. He gave a throaty snarl, shoving Loki against the tree, teeth clamping down the skin of his shoulder, leaving a harsh bruise. Forgetting Loki's hands, he instead slunk his own down, underneath Loki's shirt, only to tug and rip it off, throwing it to the side. It didn't matter anymore, collateral damage. All that mattered now, was getting Loki ready to take his cock, was getting the god to scream his name. He ripped off the gods trousers in much the same way, the force of his grinding the only thing keeping them pressed together against the tree, and then he was shoving his own pants down, licking his palm messily and taking them both in hand. Fuck, it was so good, but it still wasn't enough. He let go of their cocks, instead wrapping an arm around Loki's waist and hauling him up, till the god wrapped his legs around Tony's waist, pressed together. He nipped and nibbled all up along Loki's jaw, leaving bruises and bite marks, all vivid and bright against such alabaster skin, and no doubt his nails were leaving red lines across Loki's body, testament to such rough and feral love. He didn't care, only cared about sticking his fingers into his mouth long enough to get them slick, and to then reach around, prodding and teasing at Loki's hole, breath rushing out of him in harsh pants.

  
  


For the first time in his long life, Loki fully released control. This didn't prevent him from continuing his participation, but he made no attempt to predict Tony's next moves. A gasp, initially absent of vocalization, burst from his lungs and built into cry of pain. His freed hands snapped down and grasped Tony's back. And oh, how he needed more. With his new release of responsibility for his body, Loki was played like a puppet, arms raising to allow his shirt to be removed. Instead, it was ripped from his body entirely. As the same treatment was given to his trousers, the tree worked in tandem with Tony's nails, digging small gashes into his otherwise pristine skin. There were hardly seconds between the moans which bubbled from his throat as his neck stretched, scalp pressed into the tree. There were merely threads holding Tony's clothes on and Loki easily removed the other man's shirt. "You are hardly human," he muttered, rolling himself into Tony's hand. His upper back took the brunt of the tree as he kept his bottom lifted. Each sharp pain sent waves of pleasure through his body, lean muscles tensed in fearful anticipation. Never had he been so fully owned by another. Needy, starved and taunted, he pressed back against the digits and dug his nails along the back of the man's shoulders. "I'm starting to--" A moan cut his words short. "To...doubt your follow through, Stark." His lips met with Tony's ear and he let his sounds of delight meet with the dirty skin. "Take me, you beast."

  
  


Perhaps, if he was still normal, still human, not some kind of feral beast, he would've stopped, made sure Loki was stretched, lubed, ready for him. But, alas, he was not, and he did not. Instead, he gave an animalistic howl, lips curled back to bare his fangs, and slammed Loki against the tree, inhaling and smelling blood, from the multiple scratches on his back. He paused, inhaling again, and pulled back. Change of plans. Grabbing Loki, he threw him to the ground, forcing the man onto hands and knees, bending over him. God, such pale skin, beading with delicious crimson nectar, and all for him, not to mention his ass, forced to spread wide as Tony groped him. He couldn't waste any more time, slicking up his dick with spit, he lined in, and thrust forward. Fuck. It was hot, and /tight/, oh so fucking tight. Tony clutched at Loki's hips, a hiss escaping from behind his teeth, and he barely gave Loki a moment to adjust before he was pulling back and forcing himself in again, and again, until he was balls deep and could go no further. It was only then that he paused, and leaned down, dragging his tongue over the first of many cuts, tasting the god. Tony shuddered, a low, menacing snarl bubbling from his throat. And he thought the agents back at the compound had been tasty. In comparison? Nothing but swill. He slammed one hand down on Loki's shoulder, claws digging into his skin, and started a powerful, brutal pace, using the gods ass for his own pleasure, making sure he couldn't get far, with such a harsh grip on his hip and shoulder. Again and again, back and forth, harder and faster, until he was panting with it, dragging his tongue across Loki's back more and more, determined to lick up his blood, to taste his sweat, his arousal. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. He needed more. 

  
  


The initial impact of the tree was jarring. No longer did the rough bark irritate his battered skin. In fact, the scratching, in comparison to the treatment the rest of his body was facing, was nearly soothing. The unusual comfort came to an end when Loki felt Tony's hand upon his shoulder and afterward met with the ground. Sticks broke against his body and rocks dug into his skin. A new comfort. Even this new pain, soon to become his new neutral, was muted entirely when Tony forced his way in. "Ah-" Loki tried to protest. But he could only from his head down, forehead to forest floor, and bite harshly into his forearm. During the short intermission, in the midst of the sensation of the hot tongue against his skin, Loki drew in a long steady breath. Anything to convince his body that he knew what he was doing. But he didn't. The thrusting resumed and Loki cried out again. His knees bluntly dug holes into the soil, the toes of his boots trying to plant into the ground as his fingers clawed, dirt building under once tirelessly cleaned nails. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache. Still, he wanted more. A voice in his head taunted: /you're out of control/. It pointed out how compromised he was. The shame activated a new level of potential pleasure and his groans grew loud and sloppy as the voices continued remark. Pathetic. Whore. Weak. With little room to move, Tony's hands ensuring that he remained in place, Loki tried to rut back. His hips rolled as best he could. Knowing he was only inciting greater suffering and perhaps beckoning Tony to behave more violently, Loki struggled against the hold. "Tony..." He huffed. "Gods...it's too rough." A hand flew up and he grated his nails against the bark. Splinters pulled harshly at his nailbed. It was too rough. But he didn't want it stop. So, hoping to clarify, he added. "Don't you dare stop." 

  
  


The godling was writhing on him, rolling back onto his cock, squeezing around him. God, it was almost too much. His mind was a whirlwind of sensation, the wet heat around his cock, the blood on his tongue, the sound of Loki's moans in his ears. He wanted more, wanted the God to scream, scream his name till everyone could hear. He straightened up, kneeling up and tugging Loki with him, arm wrapping around his chest, and hand wrapping around his throat. He squeezed, making it harder to breathe for the other, and sped up his pace, brutal and harsh, a true pounding of his hips. The sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the forest, surrounding them with the sound of rough, animalistic sex. He curled his tongue around Loki's ear again, nibbled on his jaw, and reached up with his free hand, dragging his claws down Loki's chest. They drew blood, perfect red lines against perfect pale skin, and he scooped up the blood on his fingers, bringing it up to Loki's mouth, offering it to him. Though it was more like he painted the gods lips with his own blood, and expected him to lick it off. All the while, he started to talk, filthy mouth running on autopilot. "God, look at you. You're a filthy whore, practically throwing yourself onto my cock. You feel so good..." He grit out, a snarl erupting from his chest as heat started to pool in his belly, balls drawing up tight. He panted, hissing and snarling, and, when he was so close he could taste it on his tongue, he leaned in, and whispered right into Loki's ear. "C'mon Lokes, take my cum like the bitch in heat you are." He growled out, and then he was grabbing Loki's hips with one hand and shoving him down as he thrust up, burying himself as deep as he could get. He came with a feral roar, fangs on show, grinding himself upwards and pumping ropes of hot cum into the other, moaning loudly. 

  
  


Each thrust pummled Loki's face against the ground until Tony tugged him up, fingers grasping marks and cutting off blood flow. Mouth open in a silent gasp, he blinked tears from his eyes. Dirt still clung to his damp red face. His hands instinctively clawed at Tony, head throbbing as his body began for beg for blood and oxygen, pulse sounding out in his ears. Claws dug along his chest and the blood trickled down into his erect cock and thighs painting speckles on Loki's skin and the leaves below with each trust. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the pressure released and he drew in a cathartic breath. Lungs filled with cool air, he was finally able to cry out in pain, each scream devolving from Tony's name into a breathy sob. Despite the overwhelming pain, he was quick to lap up the blood. The salty taste stung his tongue, mouth growing dry as he became more and more dehydrated. His vision was blurry but, as he looked down upon his body, he saw more red than pale white. The names churned in his mind and he simultaneously wanted to shout for Tony to stop, to lash out, and beg for more. Yes, I'm a filthy whore. He grunted, teeth clenched and lip quivering in a furious frown. Swiping his hand down his body, palm slapping against his violently jostled body, Loki gathered his blood as it seeped from open wounds. Red fluid in hand, he stroked himself. It was warm and dried quickly but he wasn't in the state of mine to notice, simply gathering more as the effect of lubrication wore off. "Oh, gods, yes. Tony." Loki practically growled, tears mixing with blood and dirt. His body grew tense. The final intense slams sent him forward, knees shuffling against rocks in hopes of remaining still so as to feel the full effect. "Fuck--" He was gasping. Calling out wordless groans as he reached his own orgasm. Even as his climax retreated, ejaculate dripping down his cock and the bark of the tree, Loki fought to catch his breath. His body was limp. Quivering in place as nerve endings fought to be heard. This was nirvana in hell. His forehead met with the tree and he grasped at the bark to steady himself.

  
  


He groaned as Loki came, the gods ass squeezing around him, delicious hot heat. It was almost too much, and yet not enough, and he couldn't help but notice that his dick wasn't softening yet. The thought made him blinks, because he wasn't exactly young anymore, and 40 year old men usually weren't able to cum more than once a night. But now? His erection hadn't flagged yet, and if he shifted, it rubbed deliciously against Loki's walls, sending sensations sizzling up his spine, lids heavy, and gaze lidded, eyes glazed with lust. He couldn't help himself, now that he knew he could keep feeling good, he started grinding himself up to prolong his orgasm, moans falling from his lips. Would he be able to cum again? Perhaps it was something to try, but not yet. Loki was dead weight in his arms, tired out from the session, and Tony gazed at him. Fucked out, and limp, the god was quite the sight, bleeding and covered in cum. It made something dark in him rise, that never-ending thirst starting to seep into his mind, making itself known. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad, if he just had a little sip? Just a tiny taste, just to get a little more of that amazing blood. Leaning forward, he bit down into the gods neck, blood flooding his mouth. Giving a low snarl, he started to suckle, arm wrapping around Loki's waist so he couldn't get away. God, he had no idea what it was about Loki's blood. Perhaps his magic, the fact he wasn't of this world? Who knew what it was that made it so good, but Tony didn't think he'd be able to go back to normal blood. Not when this was ambrosia in his mouth, coating his throat and warming his belly. Just a little more, it was so good, so tasty, he never wanted to stop. Still grinding, and still drinking, his grip tightened on the god, now almost oblivious to his state. His mind was fading again, being taken over by the fog of his thirst, the madness that would never truly leave.

  
  


In a his post-orgasmic daze, Loki couldn't tell whether seconds or minutes had passed since he'd felt the rigid punch of Tony's throbbing cock. All he knew was that it was still there. Without the energy or will to protest, he remained loose and limp against the tree. The pleasure was fading and in its place rose the great ache of all of his injuries. Each splinter beneath his nails rang out at once, the cuts on his knees burnt against the ground while sweat erupted a wave of needle like stings along the rest of his bloodied hide. There was such a great deal of pain that Loki was paralyzed by it. All of his senses amplified by the overwhelming experience. It wasn't until Tony began to rock his hips again that Loki finally began to protest. Soft grunts forced from his nose as he swung one hand back to shove at the man's hips. But he didn't let up. In fact, he leaned in, mouth against Loki's neck and-- Oh, gods. Loki's body stiffened, rigid as a board, and he squirmed in an effort to escape. His first genuine attempt to do so. Gone were his playful struggles and welcomed was his immense strength working overtime to even budge the grasp that Tony had on him. "Tony!" He shouted. "Stop!" His heart pounded violently. Before he knew it, his vision was fading. Blurry sight going nearly dark as his maximum effort diminished to half hearted squirming. Could Tony kill him? His mind was in a frenzy and he tried to speak again. "Stop..." His words were nothing more than a tired exhale. "I can't..." his breathes were loud huffs, his body desperately trying to regulate its new lesser blood volume. 

  
  


Was that his name being called? It sounded fuzzy, far away, as if someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to stop. It was so tasty, like nothing he'd ever had before, but his interest had been piqued, and he wanted to know what was going on. Letting go, he licked his lips, and pulled back to stare at Loki, his brow furrowing a little in confusion. Loki was a pale man, but this? This was almost worrying. He looked him over, leaning over his shoulder to stare at his chest, and realised just how rough he'd been with the man. He was bruised, bloody, scratched and torn, like he'd been mauled by something. Tony swallowed thickly, guilt pooling in his belly. He wasn't sure why, but so far he hadn't minded Loki. He'd never exactly hated the god, they were too alike for that, but the experience he'd gone through, with Loki at his side? Made him feel bad that he had almost killed him. Fuck, he had to do something. He winced as he oh so carefully pulled out, and turned them, sitting so he could lean back against the tree, and pulling Loki into his lap, face to face. God, the man was pale. Dangerously so. What to do, what to do? There was only one thing he could think of, and it wasn't exactly something he'd done before. Feeding someone else your blood wasn't usually a go to fix it, but so many other things had been turned on their head today. He may as well try this, and if it didn't work, he'd just have to start praying, or something. He tipped his head back, and reached up, using a sharp claw to slice through his neck. He winced at the small sting, before guiding Loki's mouth to the cut, crooning in his ears. "C'mon, Lokes. Drink up, it'll make you feel so good." He purred, cupping the back of his head and wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him close, almost like a lover would.

  
  


In a state of liminal consciousness, Loki could only pay minimal attention to what was going on. Manipulated like a puppet, he only barely tried to hold his weight as Tony sat them down. His head fell down against the man's chest. The only thing keeping him from slipping into the darkness entirely was the sound of Tony's heart and the whirr of air moving in and out of his lungs. His knuckles rested on the ground by his knees and he breathed a sigh as if to assure the other that he was still there. Present but absent. Perhaps death would be better than this. Warm hands against his face snapped him from his doom and gloom train of thought. Drink what? The sweet metallic scent snapped his eyes open and his lips parted as he inhaled the scent fully. It smelled absolutely intoxicating. Without a second thought he latched on, suckling like a babe as the breast. His tongue massaged the wound, urging the blood into his mouth and down his throat. With each greedy gulp, Loki grew more and more invigorated. His hands from the ground and he slipped his fingers deftly up along Tony's neck, caressing his jaw. Hips rolling, he started to grind against the man's remarkably still hard cock. And he needed it. Sucking morphed into gnawing and his grinding grew fervent, bites trailing up Tony's neck until they were mouth to mouth. Hungry needy kisses, sloppy and careless. "You, Tony Stark, are a delicacy," he breathed into the kiss. Swiping the blood, hot against his palm, Loki reached behind himself and coated Tony's cock. Then he dug his toes into the dirt and lifted up, guiding it into his tired hole. Without allowing so much as a moment to adjust, kiss deep and hands smearing blood up the side of Tony's face, Loki began to ride the cock as if his survival was dependant on it. With each return thrust Loki grunted, loud and carefree. Odin himself could have appeared in that forest and he'd not have ceased his relentless pursuit of pleasure. The kiss was broken time and time again to make room for these erotic exclamations as well as to allow Loki to lap at the spilt blood. Each time bringing more of the life giving liquid back to Tony's lips. His bottom lifted and dropped, hips undulating as he worked the cock in as deep as he could get it, all assisted by Tony as he pounded back. To get better leverage and depth, he lifted a knee and pressed the bottom of his foot against Tony's thigh. Using his new position, one knee still pressed into the ground, he was better able to control and increase the speed with which he rode the bloody man. The deeper jabs had him slack jawed. "Oh, Tony," he growled, hands painting smears with the blood. His long fingers wrapped around Tony's neck while he laced the others through his hair, holding him aggressively back against the tree. It's not as if Loki couldn't be overpowered. "Touch me," he demanded, tilting his head down to spit a red tinged glob into his awoken cock. It was red and hypersensitive but he didn't care. He needed it. Nails dug into Tony's scalp as he continued to beg, sloppy needy words pouring from bloodied lips between insatiable kisses. "Fuck me you bloody animal." His eyes screwed shut as he embraced the aching, empowering himself to feel every firing angry nerve, serving it back to Tony as best he could through his strangling grasp.

  
  


And Tony was all for dominating, for holding Loki down, using him, fucking him until both were sated. But this? With Loki riding him desperately, snarling into his mouth and covering them in blood? Something warmed in his gut, pooled there, a heat, a fire. He snarled in return, and grabbed Loki by the hips, shifting his legs so he could plant himself into the ground. He started to thrust up, desperately, harshly, brutal and rough, despite the fact that Loki would probably be sore tomorrow. He didn't care, he was focused on the here and now, on licking blood from Loki's mouth, nipping their lips and smearing the red substance around, growling. He was too focused on Loki's hands tangled in his hair, shoving him around as the God needed, and he could only obey, not used to such submissive sex, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when Loki was writhing on his cock, not when Loki was arched, insatiable above him, almost insane with his need. All he could do was fuck up into him, grasp at his hips and rock, moan and gasp, nibbling at his jaw and neck, nipping and drawing blood only to lick it away. This was sex like he'd never had it before, and he wanted more, wanted Loki for himself. He needed the god. Loki would be his. 

  
  


With each passing second the sensation grew more powerful, the need more desperate. He needed Tony. This, whatever it was, he needed it as well. The blood called to him so profoundly that, just by looking, he could tell the difference between Tony's sweet elixir and his own blood. By smell, he could determine whether his blood or sweat had diluted the other man's. Each time it gurgled from its tap, Loki was compelled to lick it away. Pupils blown the size of tea saucers, he was only working to maintain his high finding that he'd reached a peak. Full in a way but surely not sated. Needing just a moment Loki ground down upon Tony's cock, putting downward pressure once it was buried to the hilt and making circles with his hips. For the first time since they started, he broke oral contact, closing his eyes and letting his head tip back. Groaning, he fully focused on the cock within him as it moved. "You'll remember this," he panted out, opening his eyes and looking at Tony deviously as he began riding with increasing vigour. One hand wrapped slender fingers roughly around Tony's cheeks, scratching down cheekbone and pressing him back against the tree. The other fell to his own cock. His breathing picked up, a glaze in his eyes, though his penetrating stare did not falter. And so he repeated, slowly, timing his words with each rough thrust. "You, will, remember, this," he exhaled, face red and sweaty and close to Tony's. After gathering more blood, he returned to stroking his cock. "Because, without me, you'll never have anything like this again." Orgasm building, he moaned. Leaning back, sure that Tony would get the full show, the hand released his face and moved back behind Loki to stabilise him. "Now fuck me like you mean it."

  
  


And how could he possibly say no to a demand like that? He bucked up, very nearly throwing the goddamn man off his lap, and shifted. He pushed Loki onto his back, and knelt between his legs, holding onto his hips and pounding into him like there was no tomorrow. There was no finesse here, no style, just him desperately pumping his hips into the other man, snarling and teeth bared. There was a warmth pooling in his belly, a fire lighting up inside his veins.


End file.
